“I don’t see how that has anything to do with you, Maria,” I volley back.
She steels her shoulders, ready to double down. I can predict her next move from a mile away.
“I’d just like to know what’s going on”—she tips her chin at the pocket holding my phone—“so I can be prepared for whatever supermodel you’re pictured with next week.”
Closing my eyes, I remind myself that nothing good can come from arguing with her. We’re divorced and belong in each other’s past.
“I’m not seeing anyone, Maria.”
She scoffs lightly and lifts a champagne glass to her lips, taking a small sip. Her eyes dart briefly to my group of friends. They could’ve been her friends, too, if she’d given them a chance.
“But you will be soon.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
I couldn’t care less, but I’ll do anything to remove the spotlight. It’s hard to believe that I’m talking to a woman in her mid-thirties who flies planes for a living. Confidence should ooze from her.
“I’ve been on a few dates,” she says, swirling the bubbles around in her glass.
If she’s trying to make me jealous, then she isn’t succeeding, only underlining a level of hypocrisy I didn’t think she was capable of.
Done with this conversation, I point at my teammates, noticing Jack is keeping a watchful eye on us. I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing as me:What the fuck is she doing here?
“Well, it was great to see you and everything, but I’ve got a group of friends waiting for me,” I confirm.
Her stony face softens a fraction. I know she’s been hurt by the divorce as much as I have. The difference is, I know the only way to move on and heal is to do exactly that.
“Billie just went into labor.”
Her words stop me in my tracks, and I spin on my heel to face her.
Maybe it’s just my imagination or my mind playing tricks on me, but I swear I catch a smile as it momentarily pulls at her lips.
“I know,” I tell her. “Scott got in touch.”
I turn over my shoulder to look at my friends again, and Jack is still fixated on us both.
“Is that all, or did you need something else?”
She just shrugs, taking another sip of champagne. I don’t like the way she’s acting, but, hey, that’s nothing new.
“No, that’s all I need to know. Have a great night, Emmett, and enjoy your free drinks. I’ll likely catch you sometime after the baby arrives.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
BILLIE
Big blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes stare back at me from the bassinet set in the corner of my bedroom.
I’m pretty sure this is the first time Blake has been simultaneously awake and not screaming until her little lungs couldn’t scream anymore.
Sitting on the bed next to her, I heave a sigh of relief. It’s been a week since we returned from the hospital, and in the ten days Blake has been on this earth, a minute hasn’t passed without my mom by my side, helping me navigate breastfeeding, changing diapers, and generally offering me respite where she can.
With Dad completely out of action and unable to work until his leg is healed, the original plan she had—to take extended unpaid leave, as agreed with her boss—has gone up in flames.
We need the money, and the only one capable of earning right now is Mom.
As Blake drifts into a peaceful sleep, the faint noise of our front door opening causes her to stir, but mercifully, it isn’t enough to wake her entirely.
